


Nate

by vianne78



Series: Nate [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moving On, Post-Blind Betrayal, Pre-Relationship, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: It's been two years, and Nora pays Nate a visit. It's time to move on.





	Nate

He woke up, and for a few heartbeats wasn’t sure if he had been dreaming. He could still smell her perfume, and her touch lingered on his skin.  
Nora. His Nora, with the golden hair and honey eyes. Her classy air and sweet little dimple that effectively masked the sassiest, dirtiest sense of humor Nate had ever witnessed in anyone.  
Her innate sweetness that made him open wide in front of her.  
The light dusting of freckles on her nose you could see only if you got very, very close.  
He’d seen them in the dream.

***

They had been walking around the rebuilt Sanctuary, talking about the settlements and all the people willing - eager - to participate any way they can.  
She had loved it, just like he knew she would. He had shown her around, answering all her questions, mildly surprised when he realized how very proud he sounded. They had all fought hard, made hard choices, and now it began to look like it was all worth it.

They had sat on one of the benches by the water. She had still fit so perfectly under his arm. He’d buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, reveling in her presence. Enjoying it while he could.  
Her arm had been draped across his broad chest, and he’d held his hand over her forearm, gently securing it in place, brushing his thumb along the fine hair.  
She was covered in that soft, downy hair from head to toe, and if he was very careful, he could ghost his lips or fingers just above her skin and make her tickle without even touching her. He had done that often, just to feel that shiver or hear her laugh.

“I have to go, Nate.” Her voice had been so gentle. She slowly stood up and pulled him with her. He had known she couldn’t stay, of course he had, but it didn’t make it any easier.  
He was grateful the feelings coursing through him felt strangely muted, as if wrapped in something warm and soft by the dream, or maybe by her.

“I miss you, Nora.” Such simple words to carry something so heavy.  
“I’ll always be with you.” Her eyes had glistened, her smile breathtakingly beautiful. “You are a good man, Nate, and we were so happy. Don’t you see? Nothing can erase what we had.”  
She was right. She was always right.

Her hand had caressed his cheek. Such a simple touch to carry so much affection.  
“If you just keep loving,” she’d said intensely, “if you keep caring like I know you can, you will heal the world around you. Look what you have done already! All you need to do is hold on to hope. And go on.”

By then they had both been crying, pressing their foreheads together, their tears a strange mixture of grief and intense joy. Grief for everything they had had and lost. Joy for the closure they were finally getting.  
“This is the last time, isn’t it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question but she answered anyway.  
“It is. You know why. Can you imagine what our mothers would do to me if I kept you lingering in the past?”  
He loved their mothers, but the idea of both of them pestering her endlessly was horrible and scary, and laugh bubbled out easing the sting.

He had buried his hands in her hair, her shiny, spun gold hair, like he used to do so often. The familiar, smooth weight of it slowly sliding between his fingers had calmed him.  
Then he had lifted her face, memorizing every detail he already knew by heart, and laid his mouth on hers. One last time.  
Soft. Her lips had been soft and molded against his so easily, her taste tinged with their tears and the kiss so, so sweet.

In the end he had done what he had to and let her go, their fingers touching for as long as they could before finally parting.  
She had begun to walk away, and though he’d been as ready as he could be, all the barely healed splinters and cracks in his heart ached.  
He had rubbed his hand over his chest in a vain attempt to dull it.

“I love you, Nora. From the first moment. And I always will.”  
It didn’t need saying, but he had said it anyway. One last time.  
“And I loved you, Nate. Always.” She had smiled over her shoulder, and just as she was disappearing, he saw her holding a small boy in her arms.

***

He woke up still holding his heart, fingers almost digging through the skin, the clenching in his chest now more pronounced.  
Her name was falling from his lips and he rushed to untangle himself from the blankets and pillows to plant his bare feet on the cool concrete, to anchor himself back to reality.  
It wasn’t enough at all. He stood up and started pacing restlessly, running his hands through his hair, trying to focus, forcing his lungs to do their job.

Before he knew it, he was outside, drawing deep breaths of heavy night air, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Trying to ride the familiar wave of grief and not drown in it.  
He could still feel her. Two years, and he could still feel her.

***

Nick saw him come out, almost burst out from the sleeping quarters, radiating tenseness. Radiating agony.  
The Vault Dweller seldom showed any signs of pain, even when physically injured, so whenever he did, everyone paid attention.  
Nick stumped his cigarette and sauntered around the corner to the carport, where the workbenches were. Where Danse was tinkering with one of his weapons.

The former Paladin raised his head, and apparently Nick’s face wasn’t as unreadable as he liked to think. Or maybe it just took one to know one.  
That one glance immediately made Danse lower his weapon on the table and wipe his hands.

“Something’s up with him. Go see if you can help, I’m going to make some tea. Or maybe dig up some whiskey.”  
Danse was already gone by the time Nick got to the end of his sentence.

***

The solid and warm hand on Nate’s shoulder didn’t come as a surprise. Danse had always had trouble sleeping. Of course he would be up.  
“If you wish to -” Danse began hesitantly.  
“She was here.” Nate interrupted, afraid he wouldn’t get the words out if he didn’t say them right away. “Nora. She was here.”  
“You were dreaming of her again.” Danse’s voice was sympathetic. Soft.  
Nate was staring at his own hands.  
“It felt real. I was just holding her. She felt so real.” He turned to look at Danse. “She said this was the last time. I think… I think I just said goodbye to her.”

If the signs of tears on his face shocked Danse, he didn’t show it, just held his hand firmly on Nate’s shoulder, silently offering his support.  
Nate had helped him when he had needed it the most, pulled him through when he had lost everything, lost himself - brought him back to life when he had been ready to die.  
Whatever it took, he would do the same for Nate.

The look of understanding on Danse’s normally so stern face was too much to handle.  
Nate dropped his eyes when he felt his control breaking again, and no matter how hard he tried to keep it together and struggled to breathe, he lost.  
Just as a small, strangled sound escaped him, Danse’s arms circled his shoulders and he was pulled into a strong embrace.  
Nate couldn’t keep himself together, but now he was being held up, so he dared to let go.  
The grief washed over him.

***

Danse let go rather reluctantly. He felt a twinge of guilt for the thought, but it felt nice, simply holding the other man as long as the storm lasted. The two were roughly the same size, so maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising how well they fit together.  
Danse’s arm stayed on Nate’s shoulders so naturally they barely even noticed.

“So that’s what a shoulder looks like when it’s been cried on.” Nate’s smile was weak and lopsided, but it was there.  
He didn’t apologize for the outburst, wasn’t even embarrassed. This was Danse - and Danse understood loss.  
Danse looked at the tearstains on his t-shirt.  
“Well. Losing all that fluid I think tea is in order. Maybe even something stronger,” he said, turning them towards the Kitchen, and Nate didn’t argue.

***

It was a separate building in the middle of the first settlement, built solely to serve as everyone’s common kitchen and breakfast diner. Flags and old posters decorated the walls, and it was full of all kinds of food, booths, small and bigger tables (that could be pushed together to form one huge one for special occasions), comfortable seats and a general feeling of home. If asked, most settlers would name it as their favorite place to be.  
Strong didn’t much care for it, but then he mostly preferred his food still twitching and without company.

When they walked in, the lights were already on. Nate raised his head and looked around, astonished. Almost everyone was there.  
Nick was sitting in one of the booths with Piper and Deacon, holding a shot of whiskey, out of habit more than anything else. Preston was feeding Dogmeat his ham.  
MacCready and Cait were leaning on each other, both snoring a little.

A blanket was draped over Nate’s bare shoulders, and Curie kissed his cheek, flitting away to Nick’s table. Codsworth appeared, holding a steaming mug of tea.  
“Master Nate, your favorite blend with a pinch and splash of something extra.”  
“Thanks, old friend.” It was strong and sweet, and it had more than a little splash of something extra. He would probably be drunk if he drank all of it. He smiled. It was perfect. “Just what the doctor ordered.”  
“Oh, indeed,” Codsworth said, clearly amused as he returned to the stoves, and Nate saw Curie wink at the robotic butler.

He saw the sideglances, though his friends - his family - didn’t ask anything. They didn’t really have to, knowing his story.  
They might have been worried, but he got to sit there peacefully, sip his specially blended tea, and simply draw strength from their presence.

This breakdown had left him feeling different than before. Cleansed, instead of lost. Tired, but in a good way, like sleeping would actually help this time.  
In the beginning, he’d frequently been so drained by grief he barely had the strength to open his eyes to stare at a wall.  
Later on, he’d been working through the days like a machine, trying not to think. Doing what he expected from himself, but not feeling any of it.

Then had come a time when someone close to him had been in danger, on the verge of disappearing from his life either by their own hand or by someone else’s.  
That tragedy had been his turning point.  
Nate had snapped out of his numbness and focused every bit of his energy on saving Danse.  
He had succeeded, and after that, with the support of so many others, he had built and connected strong settlements, defeated near impossible enemies with the reborn Minutemen, and generally turned the Commonwealth around.

He was sprawled sideways in the booth, leaning on the wall, his legs straightened on the bench in front of him. Danse mirrored him on the other side, empty shotglass in his hands.  
One by one, the others began to trickle out, each of them tipping their hat, smiling at him warmly or slipping to kiss him before leaving to catch some sleep.  
By the time only he and Danse were left, Nate’s heart was lighter than than it had been just a little while earlier. Lighter than he remembered it being in a long time.

“It’s not morning yet. You should try to sleep, too,” Danse rumbled, rubbing his hands exhaustedly over his face. Not only had he not slept tonight, Nate knew he hadn’t slept a wink on the night before, either.  
“I will if you will,” Nate agreed, earning a dirty look from the other soldier. Danse clambered up, cracked his knuckles and huffed.  
“Fine, if it’s the only way to get you to bed.” Danse froze. “That... didn’t come out right.”  
“I didn’t know that was your purpose,” Nate said as he rose, and smiled inwardly when Danse seemed to almost blush.  
“I… it didn’t… You know what I meant.”  
“Oh, I think I do know what you meant.” Nate was already stepping outside, and Danse followed right on his heels.  
“Nate, please.”  
“Pleading now? You could at least buy a guy dinner first...”

Their voices soon disappeared into the night, and Codsworth appeared from his hiding place to clean up for the coming morning, and undoubtedly late breakfast.  
He had detected something in his master’s tone again, something he hadn’t heard in a long time, and it reminded him of the happiest times of his life.  
The robot picked up a dishrag and started whistling a tune long since forgotten.

***

“Where’s Blue?” Piper asked over her fried tatos. Deacon grinned smugly.  
“More importantly, where’s our favorite toaster,” he drawled, crossing his legs on the table and ignoring Codsworth’s reprimand about the serious lack of manners.  
“You really should stop calling ‘im that, you know how much ‘e’s changed...oh,” Curie came to a halt and almost dropped her mutfruit juice. The spy nodded, grin widening.  
“That about covers it. Oh.”  
“Oh come on,” MacCready scoffed around a mouthful of ham. “They’re not even on the same bed, I looked. Danse was on the sofa _next to_ the bed, clear as day.”  
“I looked too, and they might as well have been. You know it’s only a matter of time.”  
“If you mean their hands, that could happen accidentally.”  
“What was ‘appening with their ‘ands,” Curie wanted to know.  
“They were holding hands,” Deacon declared victoriously, making MacCready swallow hastily to cut in.  
“No. No they weren’t. Their hands were _close to_ each other, like brushing a little, _maybe_ , but they were _not_ holding hands!”  
“Looked to me they had fallen asleep holding hands, like definitely…”

The cozy argument would go on through the whole brunch.  
Piper and Curie would slip out to see for themselves, catch Cait already spying on site, and drag her back to the kitchen with them to join in on the speculation.  
And old Codsworth, he could be heard whistling happily through the whole day.


End file.
